It’s kind of ironic that I’ve never given my name in this blog, but I’ve talked about personal medical issues ranging from brain meningiomas to transvaginal sonograms. Interesting what some people decide to be private about, huh? On that note, consider yourself now informed that I have a hernia.
When I was a kid, I had no idea what a hernia was other than when I heard adults lug around air conditioners grunting, “This f***ing thing is gonna give me a hernia!” I was in the dark, but as far as good times go, I deduced it was not the equivalent of a lobster dinner at Panama Hatties or even a turkey burger at the diner. If I had known it was a rupture in the stomach wall where your intestines push through, I wouldn’t have brought food into the equation at all.
My father had to have a hernia operation when I was in junior high, and he told a humorous story about it, as he did about most everything. He had been referred to a surgeon who came highly recommended, and when they shook hands at the consultation, he noticed that the doctor was missing two fingers on his right hand. In response to my dad’s concerned expression, the surgeon smiled and said, “Don’t worry, I’m a lefty.”
The surgeon my internist referred me to was also an instant hire. After examining my abdomen, he pointed to my cell phone and said, “Call your husband and tell him you’re the proud parents of an inguinal hernia.” To be fair, Husband really doesn’t get any of the credit for this, although he will be in for a treat when he tends to my post-surgical care. In preparation for my February operation, I’ve taken a leave of absence from school since I won’t be able to carry all the required equipment up and down the stairs. So I enrolled in an online program to keep up at home while I’m out. It’s only been a week, but Husband can already tell my only companion during the day is my laptop.
When evening comes and he gets home from work, I lope into the hallway and start asking him about his day: what did he do, who did he see, what’s it like out there, tell me stuff, tell me tell me tell me. I feel like that dog in the cartoon whose head whipped from side to side while he panted, “Which way did they go, George, which way did they go?”
So now, aside from home schooling and panting like a puppy, my days tick by filled with fun stuff like a defensive driving class for my insurance discount, and tests for medical clearance from my internist. I got my first echocardiogram ever, and was told those comforting words we all long to hear: “Did you know you have mitral valve prolapse?” Uh, no, I didn’t. But that’s a whole ‘nother entry.
Daughter’s Featured Fotos are Open to Interpretation
march of the tin men
catch me if you can
beauty and the beast or fake nail on a bathroom floor
. . . and a banana